Hope after border crossings

Other

The world took notice of one lifeless child on the beach, and responded with tears. Yet thousands of refugees continue to make desperate border crossings in hope of something better. The UNHCR estimates 4.8 million Syrian refugees have flooded into neighbouring Turkey, Lebanon and Jordan. This region, known as West Asia, is buckling under one of the gravest humanitarian crises in modern memory.

The onward journey is complicated and slow at best. As time stretches on, poverty and ill health become problems, and despair sets in. Many have given up hope.

But there is hope. In West Asia, a small local church with a big heart is reaching out to refugees, with amazing impact. They began with blankets, mattresses, baby formula, and gas stoves. The refugees were astounded – no one else treated them like these ‘Bible people’ did. As numbers increased, a refugee centre was opened, and they now provide regular food relief and programs for over 5,500 refugee families.

The church knows they are in this for the long haul. They want refugees fleeing violence and strife to find love in Jesus' name and, by God's grace, faith in Him. Multicultural Interserve teams have been serving alongside this local church for over twenty years.

Two new Australian Interserve families are departing this year to join the refugee work of this church. These families bring skills in trauma recovery, special-needs education, IT and project management, and experience with asylum seekers in Australia. Experience tells us that as Interserve workers apply these skills, we will see innovative solutions developed. The smartphone-based system for managing food distribution at the refugee centre, for example, was created by an Interserve worker.

These two families are committed to long-term service –to making West Asia their home, and being attentive to what God is doing there. We believe that this kind of investment in long-term workers – who themselves are invested in a local body of believers – is the single most effective, sustainable and innovative contribution we can make.

This project has been submitted as part of the Mission Travel “Giving Back” campaign. If you are a Mission Travel client, you can help by voting for this project at missiontravel.com.au/givingback.

Brendan and Penny* have just departed for West Asia. Joel and Erin* are raising support. If you would like to be a part of their support team, you can give online using the supporter code 2059 or contact us for more information.

These families are not superheroes. They are ordinary Christians who are responding to the world’s need and God’s call to serve.

*Names have been changed.

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The lost song

Other

The lost song

Restless and sweating, we woke to the screeching cry of our local cow man as he took his turn ‘calling’ from the mosque situated just 50 metres from our house. It was the day of the annual feast of sacrifice and, although we had no electricity, the generator at the mosque was obviously in fine form. It was going to be a big day of celebration in our 99% Muslim city, so we were up and awake before first light, as were most of the people in our city.

Many people who live in Muslim countries have told us that they enjoy hearing the calls to prayer and we can also occasionally listen without distress to music or plaintive, earnest calls to prayer. However, over the past two years our mosque had changed, as had many in the city. ‘Plaintive’ had insidiously turned to screeching and often the cries were angry and hostile. On occasions we (foreign women) were also ordered out of our beds at 3.30am to cook breakfast for our husbands during the fasting month. This is normal for Muslim women but is totally not normal for foreign non-Muslim women and, in fact, was a breach of local Sharia law.

Eventually this exposure to noise of up to 80–85 decibels (the levels of a hairdryer and sometimes a jackhammer) took its toll. Two months before home leave, we and one of our neighbours ‘hit a wall’, finding it difficult to concentrate and suffering sleep deprivation.

For months I had been living two lives. Three months earlier my father, who was normally active and well, was diagnosed with acute myeloblastic disorder (leukaemia) and his life expectancy was weeks rather than months. I flew back to Australia and had three weeks with my dad before he suddenly developed pneumonia and septicaemia and died just five days later. My husband joined me at short notice. We had just seven days to help organise the funeral and pack up my dad’s property, situated on 3.5 hectares of land, prepare it for sale and place it on the market.

When we returned to the field, our reliable internet access, which we loved, became a source of great stress as the journey of problem solving from overseas for the sale of my dad’s house by auction began. At this time activities in our field role were at peak level with impending annual leaders’ retreats and visiting teams coming from three countries for various events. Between managing local logistics in our host country and organising survey reports and dealing with solicitors, agents and estate matters in Australia, my emotional and physical health began to suffer. A younger brother was slowly dying from cancer in Australia; he had been a recluse for decades, but he had finally let me close. Bridging both worlds, I was contacting him weekly to walk alongside him in this difficult journey.

Somewhere, in all of this, I had ‘lost my song’. While not a good singer (I sometimes declare I can sing in one key only), it had been common for many years for me to sing – whether preparing food, driving in the car or reflecting. Singing came readily from a heart of worship, but somewhere, somehow I had stopped singing and I knew that a great healing needed to take place to restore my soul.

Can you believe that during the time mentioned at the beginning of this story, with no electricity and in the midst of loud, screeching noise from the mosque, I found myself singing ‘Holy, Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord’? Tears came to my eyes as I realised that my ‘lost song’ had been restored, and this had happened in the most unlikely of situations. How often such surprises of joy come to us when we make choices, such as to praise when everything is uncomfortable or distressing. This was my choice that early morning and God’s Spirit began to restore my soul. This healing has continued, despite the death in July of my brother and also a close member of my husband’s family.

May I encourage you also, as the Scriptures say, to know that sorrow endures for a night (or a season) but joy will come in the morning for those who are faithful. If we have learned one thing from the past decade of our lives, it is this: that a full life consists not of an abundance of possessions but of a God-directed mix of heartache and sorrow and indescribable joy and compassion, expressed to us and through us as we live as ambassadors of the Kingdom.

The author is a Partner in Asia

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Jonahs Tree

Other, Arab World

Jonah’s tree

I never thought I had much in common with Jonah. The whole running in the wrong direction thing, thrown out of a boat, being vomited up by a big fish. I’m definitely not like Jonah. Anyway, when God called, I went. Right?

Yep. I’m here. Living in an overcrowded grey metropolis, my apartment indistinguishable from the thousands of others that overlook me when I stand on my balcony.

This balcony has always been a favourite place of mine. Though it is just large enough for a single chair, I can get outside, look at the trees, listen to the birds, and enjoy quiet time in the morning shade. There have been two flame trees below the balcony which flash into bloom every year in summer. I look forward to it because it is the prettiest time of year in this beauty-starved concrete city.

Here is a noisy place. Kids, cars, donkeys, horns, calls to prayer. We get used to them all. But I arrived home to an unfamiliar noise last month and went to investigate. I followed it all the way to my balcony, and discovered that I was hearing the noise of a chainsaw doing its work on ‘my’ flame trees. And they were due to bloom in two weeks…

I watched from above with barely controlled dismay as three men chopped down my beautiful trees. Within the hour, the birds were gone, the stump removed and all I could see was a concrete, rubbish-strewn courtyard. The single bit of beauty and colour I could see from my flat – gone in an hour.

I was angry about my tree being chopped down. Every time I looked down at the ugly ground past my washing line, my anger was refuelled. What is wrong with this culture that they would chop down such a beautiful tree when every bit of green should be so precious in this city? I was still moping the next morning when I sat down on the balcony for a quiet time.

But my conscience had started to hum and, like a mobile phone on vibrate, I felt urged to look at Jonah. Fast forward past the big fish and Jonah’s sitting on his hill in the sun (Jonah 4:9–11). God’s grace is about to fall upon the entire city of Nineveh, but Jonah is preoccupied with the loss of his shady vine. So God says:

”Do you have good reason to be angry about the tree? You are concerned about the tree for which you did not work and which you did not cause to grow. I am concerned about the millions of people in this great city.” (my paraphrasing).

Now I know God cares about the environment. But so much more than that, God longs to pour out his grace upon this city.

And my part in it? Ouch. What a humbling reprimand. Maybe I’m not so different to grumpy old Jonah after all – no big fish required. Am I more concerned about my tree than those who cut it down? In my pride for ‘being here’, have I got this so wrong?

God is definitely reminding me to get back to his priorities. This is something I’ve asked before but I so quickly get distracted. And not just by trees.

Forgive me Lord. Thanks that your grace extends to me and my failures too. Break my heart with what breaks yours, Lord. And help me truly live a life worthy of the calling I’ve received. Amen.

The author is a Partner in the Arab world

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By grace alone

Other

By Grace Alone

Some mornings I don’t want to get up. I just want to put my head under the covers and pretend I don’t exist. The morning in this story was one of those. I could see a long tedious day stretching ahead of me, full of things I didn’t want to do starting with the dreaded school lunches and finishing with a mountain range of washing to fold. What’s more, this morning had a dental appointment tucked in between school lunches and learn to swim classes. So it was that, not so promptly, at 8.15 I raced down the stairs and jumped into Suzy.

Suzy is a 32-year-old yellow Suzuki Swift who was loaned to us by friends when they realised we needed a temporary second car. She can be reluctant to start some mornings and she is not as beautiful as she once was as her flooring was ripped out because she leaks and then fills up with water. This particular morning was my first opportunity to drive Suzy and I leapt in with some trepidation. Being unable to adjust the seat forward, I drove off sitting upright like a heroine in a Jane Austen movie dropping the clutch and stalling her every few seconds.

By the time I reached the first traffic light I was killing myself with laughter. But I had managed to move the seat forward and we were off. See Suzy, in spite of her age, drives like a race car. She is incredibly stable when you turn corners and, because she has no floor, you can feel the road beneath you. Driving Suzy just makes me feel real and I can’t help loving her. On this morning, however, Suzy was more than my personal dilapidated race car, she was God’s grace to me, reminding me of the joy in the every day.

It is easy to see life as mundane and to forget that God’s grace is all around us. It’s there in the dreaded school lunches made from grain that grew at the grace of God, in the breeze and the sun that brush my shoulders as I hang out my washing, in the gift of my husband and three beautiful boys. All of these things are precious gifts that I have not earned, that simply come to me from the hands of a Father who loves me. Suzy reminds me that life is good even when I’m driving to the dentist.

But Suzy also reminds me of the way that God’s grace is given to us through the hands of those around us, sometimes those who care for us, sometimes complete strangers. One of the strange, spiky gifts that living on support has given me is an awareness that everything I own, the food I eat, the education for my children, my healthcare is reliant on God’s grace through the kindness of others. But it is not always easy to see this support as God’s grace. More often than not I am tempted to worry. Do I deserve it? Am I working hard enough? What outcomes have I achieved? Sometimes I wish for a simple job where I am paid for what I do, where my finances are in my control.

And yet what a gift it is to remember that we have not earned any of these things. They are gifts that come from the hand of the Father, most often administered through the loving hands of others. Gifts we should use in his service, yes! But gifts none the less. All of us, no matter what we do, exist only by God’s grace. Suzy was a gift of love to us when we needed her and the grace in her brings us joy.

Jesus said, “I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat; or about your body, what you will wear. Life is more than food, and the body is more than clothes. Consider the ravens: They do not sow or reap, they have no storeroom or barn; yet God feeds them. And how much more valuable you are than birds!” Luke 12: 22–24

The author is an Interserve Partner currently on Home Assignment.

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Three Ladies of Prayer

Other

In the past 12 months, South Australia has farewelled three wonderful saints of prayer. Since the early ‘70s, in prayer meetings in people’s homes and church halls, prayer warriors represented anybody who toured through Adelaide on deputation before the Father’s throne. They sent care parcels, wrote letters of encouragement and committed to memory the prayer and praise points in partner’s letters. These prayer heroes were, in the main, lowly educated women who developed outstanding knowledge of geography and world politics. They teamed with returned partners and short-termers, mentored younger people in the passion for prayer and launched seekers into careers overseas. The influence of Bible and Medical Missionary Fellowship (BMMF), and later Interserve, was extended because of their intercessions and encouragements.

Win Carson was generous in her prayer for overseas mission and, when she died this year, South Australia lost a Christian woman of great influence and Interserve lost a prayer warrior. Win shared with her husband Cec the lifetime habit of a breakfast prayer time dedicated to many missions and people, including Ramabhai Mukti Mission and Interserve. They believed God answers prayer and boldly claimed righteous territory for the Lord. They welcomed missionaries into their home and after Cec’s death, and even in increasing frailty, Win still clung to the privilege of offering her home for the praying circle so that she too could be included. Win was an inspiration to all and we give thanks to God for her life.

On Easter Friday this year, the Lord welcomed Bessie Eames into his presence. She first became involved with BMMF when her daughter did a short-term stint overseas in 1978; from then on she supported prayer meetings, attended events and more latterly offered her home as a prayer centre. As technology developed, she took a seniors computer course so that she could connect to the internet and print off prayer requests for her monthly gathering. She plodded along using one finger to write emails but much preferred to write in her flowing cursive script. Bessie loved prayer and exercised her spiritual gifts and discernment in intercessory warfare. She rejoiced in breakthroughs and tenaciously never gave up when answers were delayed. Partners enjoyed being ministered to by her nurturing embrace and deep insights.

Within weeks, Jean Illman, a stateswoman for God, also went to be with the Lord. Jean was a visionary and facilitator for all things mission. Under her prayerful care, BMMF was launched in Adelaide in 1959 and through her passionate commitment it grew. She served as secretary for 30 years and as mission representative. Jean supported each partner with monthly letters and treasured their letters, filing them away for prayerful reflection. Her house was the centre for prayer gatherings and fellowship meals, and she hosted every visiting missionary. Jean could see with clarity the needs of emerging mission and prayed to that end. She wrote letters and campaigned to implement strategies that would enable Interserve to flex and adapt to the changing mission culture. Mrs BMMF, SA, has left a legacy of devotion to mission.

These three women were passionate about their walk of faith, knew the power of God’s forgiveness and salvation and understood God’s open invitation to every person. Each was convinced of her calling to prayer and to make intercession for people and places, and was totally confident that God was more than able to hear and answer her requests. We thank God for their lives, their example and the heritage they have laid down.

Now it is time for the next generation to step up and assume their positions.

Tributes by Carol Eames, Aileen Pike and Geoff Pike.

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God give you strength

Other

God give you strength

I look at myself in the mirror, in the bathroom at the refugee centre where I help out. I’ve come in here to hide away a little, to step out of the fluster and hustle for a moment. As I dab at my sweat-smeared makeup, I think to myself that anger is a funny emotion.

We arrived this morning to an overwhelming scene of about 60 (mostly Syrian) women crowding the courtyard, all manner of children in tow. I am one of only two English–Arabic speakers on team today and after a morning of translating with my very limited Arabic, and repeatedly saying “I’m very sorry, but we can’t help you with anything else”, I’m quite a variety of angries.

I’m angry with the crowd for making me so overwhelmed. I’m angry with myself for getting flustered; for having money but not being able to hand it out to one and all. I’m frustrated with my limited Arabic, which drops in capacity the more stressed I become. I’m annoyed that all I’m thinking right now is how much I hate disappointing people … How is this suddenly about me?!

Sometimes I’d be caught in a sea of hands, tapping me on the shoulder or tugging on my arm, while I try to answer questions about when they might be seen, or whether we can provide more assistance, or would I please tell the manager about their seven children, and husband in prison in Syria? On this crazy first Monday of a month (the busiest day when new registrations are taken), the women crowd around the registration table, determined to be heard. “Please, sit down!”, the other translator urges, as eager faces lean in, wanting to make sure they are all getting fair treatment.

By the end of four or five hours I don’t want to talk to anyone, preferring to sit in a corner with my eyes tight shut. The last of the women have been assisted, as far as possible. When I got home later I spent a little while in the foetal position, then unwound over language homework and TV. And despite all of the flusters and splutters of the day, the thought I return to is not about anger, frustration, injustice or exhaustion. It’s about the sacredness in Arabic greetings.

Syrians in particular are a very polite people. At the end of virtually every interview with a refugee who was asking for assistance we couldn’t provide, they would stand and say “Thank you” or “Peace be with you”. And as they left, with frustration fading from their eyes, they would simply say, “God give you strength”. It’s a frequently used line, but each time it is said the words make the normal sacred and remind us both of the bigger picture. And as I respond with the set reply, the words teach us to offer grace to each other.

Some, understandably, will still leave angry or hopeless. But I’m comforted to remember that it’s God who gives strength, and God who loves more than I ever could. And I am humbled that these most vulnerable of people are the ones reminding me.

Hannah* is a recently-returned On Tracker who served in West Asia.
*Names have been changed.

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Do Muslim women need saving

Other, Arab World

Do Muslim women need saving?[1]

In May 2014, while I was on an extended retreat, God spoke to me from Exodus 3 about women who live in Islamic contexts: “Cathy, I have heard their cry, I know the burden they are under. I want to bring them out from under that burden, and I am sending you.” It was reiterated recently when, during worship, God gave me a picture. I saw the joy of His people worshipping together, dancing and celebrating, and among them I saw some women wearing hijabs and burkas. But then He pointed me to a well, and huddled beside it was a woman who looked poverty- stricken, broken and afraid, and who was being completely ignored by the worshipping community. As Jesus invited me to see this overlooked woman with His eyes my heart was broken with compassion.

Women worldwide experience many injustices, and for women living under Islam there is further injustice when religion is used to justify these abuses. The facts on maternal mortality, poverty, discrimination in education, violence, killings in the name of honour, female genital mutilation, to name just a few, are terrible. Despite the Millennium Development Goals, CEDAW [2], 2 wars,and NGO projects focussed on women, the situation for women who live under Islam is improving only superficially.

Some recent trends in mission strategies have also seen Muslim women marginalised from the good news. For example, the emphasis on ‘reach the male head of the household and you will reach the community’ has made cultural assumptions that have isolated women, as research indicates that the gospel in Muslim communities rarely crosses the gender divide. As one believer from a Muslim background said, when asked if he had shared the good news with his wife, “Why would I? She is just an illiterate village woman.” But, within Islam,women are both the greatest keepers of tradition and the most radical voices for change – this makes them important for transformation in the world of Islam. Even extremists have recognised that empowered women are the foundation of stable and resilient communities [3], and have brutally attacked women and their rights. The Church and mission workers must also recognise the importance of the role of women in the spread of the good news.

There are Muslim women who are calling for change. They are creating a space for conversation and action, challenging accepted norms and casting a vision for changed societies. As a Christian I want to join hands with them; I want to add into that conversation the values, example and good news of the kingdom of God so that, like the woman at the well in her encounter with Jesus, these women too might be invited into friendship with Jesus and become agents of transformation
in their communities.

I dream of seeing Christian women from Asia and the Arab world becoming part of that call for change, advocates for justice, developing their own contextual theology and challenging the conditions for all women who live under Islam. It is the Gospel, and its embrace of weakness and self-sacrifice, and the
power of the Holy Spirit to comfort, transform and heal, that will bring transformation and reconciliation.

This requires a new missiology for inviting women who live under Islam to friendship with Jesus. It needs to be one that connects with their reality, challenges injustice and offers transformation through encounter with Jesus Christ.

Dr Cathy Hine is our guest speaker for Interserve Day on 2 May 2015. Register and pay at www.interserve.org.nz or call us on 0800 446 464.

[1]: From title of book by anthropologist Lila Abu-Lughod;
[2]: Convention to Eliminate All forms of Discrimination Against Women;
[3]: Women are the best weapon in the war against terrorism, http://foreignpolicy.com, 10 February 2015.

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The hard work of life together

Other

Ian and I met as idealistic young adult Christians in an inner-city church located near a community of people living in a high-rise area of Melbourne. Despite living in close proximity, people struggled with isolation, discrimination and issues of broken trust. Our understanding of what it means to walk alongside people who fear violence and injustice in their immediate neighbourhood grew as we shared with troubled teens and their families.

Then, like many baby boomers during the 1970s, we travelled and studied overseas before settling to work in children’s homes in southern England. The team of care givers and their own children lived and shared their lives with 20 children from different cultural backgrounds including Africa, West Indies as well as UK, who were in long-term residential care. I remember scornful onlookers when pushing a well-sprung English pram containing a nine-month-old Nigerian baby, accompanied by two pre-schoolers from Nigeria and the West Indies when I was in my 38th week of pregnancy! What a contrast to the 20 wonder-filled faces of children who had experienced traumatic personal family lives when I brought my newborn home. Crucial to our ministry was the ordinariness of giving time and self to establish trust before we could effectively share our message of hope and reconciliation.

We later spent three years living in Christian community at theological college on the outskirts of Morpeth, New South Wales. This experience equipped us both pastorally and spiritually for parish ministry. As a community we shared gifts from God’s people on numerous occasions. Living by faith, we had just enough materially and so often a food parcel provided what we needed just in the nick of time. I learnt about grace in giving and dignity in receiving. However, issues of unrealistic expectations of fellow Christians and lack of clarity about the role of sending churches proved painful.

Community is defined in the Macquarie Dictionary as “a social group of any size whose members reside in a specific locality, share government and have a cultural and historic heritage”. The church is a body – a community – not a business. The model in Acts 2:42–47, the life of Barnabas, the ’one another’ verses of the Epistles, and the relationships reflected in the book of Acts and the apostles’ writings give us basic insight into the task before us. The same love requirement is incumbent upon the church of the 21st century with our own complex and ever-changing challenges. But what is the cost of striving to live in Christian community?

It seems that in Christian ministry and overseas mission work the biggest pain reported by members is in connection with Christian community living. Our experiences parallel similar issues for Interserve partners as they prepare to serve cross-culturally in places far from family and friend supports. From the experience of Paul (check out his listing in 2 Corinthians 6:4–10) we see that anyone practising true, biblical community life will experience much pain. We all fall short and fail each other. When we love deeply we also hurt deeply. We could choose to protect ourselves from much of this pain by staying at a safe distance from others and not committing ourselves too deeply to them. Alternatively, we could lower our standards and expectations to avoid much of the pain. However, Paul reminds us that Christianity is lived out in community. Attitudes and behaviours such as we read in Acts 2:42–46 and 3:32 must have been difficult to achieve and perhaps that is why Paul urges the believers in Philippi to work hard at achieving community (Phil 2:2; 4:2–3).

The Great Commandment to “love each other as I have loved you” is the essence of what we are to teach, how we are to disciple, and the way to develop Christian community. In many ways, though, it is when we share our vulnerability that Jesus opens doors for the community to minister with us.

Since Ian’s ordination for the Anglican Church in 1983 we have lived and served in several Australian towns: Bendigo, Kerang, Yackandandah and Heathcote as well as the Mornington Peninsular south of Melbourne. Our ministry and work has indeed been a family affair. Ian’s pastoral and teaching role, children at school, and community nursing assisted us to relate to locals in practical ways. Over time, opportunities arose to share God’s power for healing and translating the message of the gospel to reach people who had felt estranged from the church. The message of Jesus needed to be heard in new ways. The church congregations were often tiny and isolated from village culture but God’s people began to explain their faith and adjust worship styles and ministries to assist new members to understand the gospel message. The Great Commission is not complete until we have made disciples, ”teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you”.

Both of our daughters, together with their husbands and families, live their lives as incarnational ministers of the gospel. Ruth, David, Abby and Josh serve Jesus in South East Asia. Our second daughter Naomi and son-in-law Chris lived in South East Asia last year on a short-term assignment and are looking to serve cross-culturally in future. Ruth was ministered to by her local Christian community last year when she was very ill. David was away and she had sole responsibility for the children. The people in their slum neighbourhood rallied at her bedside in prayer. Children were fed and cared for by trusted church friends.

Currently we are transitioning from pastoral parish ministry to serve with a new community of believers through Interserve and related missionary organisations. As this unfolds we are honoured to partner with others who have the courage and conviction to serve Jesus in His global village in the community of faith.

From our experience, it would seem that the way we interact with the issue of suffering and pain in most churches and the way we ‘sell’ missions today do not always adequately prepare missionaries for life on the mission field. So often we highlight the excitement at the expense of the reality. Churches in the West may teach people how to respond to suffering but often fail to teach them about the indispensability of suffering – a doctrine clearly taught in the New Testament. If missionaries are truly going to identify with and become servants to those they serve, they will face severe frustrations, along with what initially looks like failure and fruitlessness.

As member care workers we want to encourage you to bear in mind constantly that suffering is an indispensable feature of discipleship and hence community life. Hopefully, then, when it comes we will not be so surprised and we can respond to it in a Christ-like manner. May your community life be enriched by the love of God as you grow in the ways of Jesus, empowered by the Holy Spirit.

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Transition

Other

It felt like ages but it was such a short time…That time between seeing the support come in and leaving.
The uncertainty.
To pack or keep going with life as it is.
To move around or stay put.
To organise one more visit or have time for yourself.
To invest in new relationships – or not.
To communicate with supporters and not to spam.
To research, understand or be overwhelmed and pause
To watch relationships change – yours with others, others with others, groups and organisations that you care about shift and bend.

With one email, it changes.
“Congrats guys, you can buy tickets.”
The excitement and the fear.
The packing and unpacking.
The suitcases and scales.
The cleaning and dumping.
The coffees and the crying.
The times to meet people.
The people you have no time to meet.
The crowds and commissioning.
The solitary and the sad.

It takes a community to raise a child. It takes a community to do life. It is in community that the kingdom is glimpsed, a future hope present today.

It is community that is ripped away.
No shared history
No inside jokes
No common understanding
No one with the same experiences.
No one.
Ever.

Old friendships are like a favourite jumper. Warm and familiar. Comforting and secure. Loved, patches healed and memories stored within the stretchmarks.

But summer is here and the times for wearing jumpers is few and far between.

The summer wardrobe awaits.
New. Unfamiliar. Ill-fitting in places.
Clean and unweathered.

And so tears come.
Grief for relationships changed and friendships lost.
Grief for potential friendships that never had time to grow.
Grief for people that don’t seem to understand
Grief for the friendships that know the heart without having to use words.
Grief for stuff once owned, once valued, locked away or discarded.
Grief for childhood experiences never to be experienced.
Grief for knowledge unlearned.
Grief for organisations and structures continuing and changing without us there.

But summer is coming and beneath the heat, a seed germinates. A promise of the kingdom now and to come. A seed that needs to sit in the soil for a while. To grow from the life that has been before. To push through the dark-yet-safe. To reach for the sun.

Stacie is an Interserve Partner, serving with her family in Cambodia

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From one community to another

Other

“Beloved, it is a faithful thing you do in all your efforts for these brothers. You will do well to send them on their journey in a manner worthy of God.” 3 John, 5–8 ESV.

“We are to grow up…into Christ, from whom the whole body, joined and held together by every joint with which it is equipped, when each part is working properly, makes the body grow so that it builds itself up in love.” Ephesians 4:15–16 ESV.

The team in Central Asia has a beautiful cultural and denominational diversity. We are supported by dozens of sending communities from places as far-flung as Germany, New Zealand, Korea, and even China. Despite such varied backgrounds, there is a palpable sense of unity and shared vision when we come together for our annual conference. This year, through a series of talks by Dr Chris Wright, we were encouraged to consider the importance of community in the context of God’s redemptive mission. As we studied Ephesians and worshipped together, I found myself reflecting on the strength and love of my sending community back in Australia, who support my work and generously allow me to invest in this place.

When anyone starts thinking about leaving their passport country for overseas mission, the first question that must be asked is how their church community can support them. The early church provides some wonderful examples. One of my favourites is in Acts 15 where the congregation in Antioch rejoices over the encouragement in a letter from the Jerusalem church. I think I know how they felt, having rejoiced in a similar way over letters and emails! With this in mind, I decided to ask some of my co-workers about their experiences.

Sent by community

R has been in Central Asia for nine years, involved in theological education. She was in her early fifties when she first considered taking her work overseas. “When I first thought of going, my friends and colleagues resoundingly said, ‘Yes! Go! We’ll support you in every way we know how’.” That support has been unceasing; for example, there is a group of women clergy that has met for many years to pray for missions. When I go back on home assignment we always have a meal together. I hear about what they’re doing and it‘s wonderful. Such funny stories! We share our joys, difficulties, hopes. It is a source of mutual encouragement.’

There are many other practical ways that the church can remind its overseas workers that they are valued members of the sending community:

“Receiving care packages is a big deal. Some of my favourite things are coffee beans, handwritten notes and nice stationery. It’s not just the material blessing of small things – sometimes by the time I get the parcel other people have gone through it and it’s always sad if something’s missing – but it’s knowing that someone has cared for me and carefully considered what I’d like. And gone to the expense.” (B, from Holland)

“I had a group from my church come and visit. It was the best thing they’ve done for me. Even though there’s cost involved on both sides, you can’t put a price on a shared experience. They saw how I lived and who I worked with, and had direct experience of my daily challenges and relationships. Now they can pray for me and visualise my life, and I feel deeply satisfied to know that.” (C, from the UK)

“I’m awful at writing letters and am always behind with my emails, but I still love hearing from people. It opens up my own perspective in various ways, as lives are shared. I can think of them as I pray for them, as they pray for me. It’s a shared thing.” (R, from Australia)

On the whole, our workers in Central Asia seem to feel well-supported by their churches; so, does this influence the way they contribute to their new community in Central Asia? After all, part of the role of a partner is to foster our team on the ground.

Building new community

This can be a difficult reality. Central Asian life is rarely easy and never simple, and the routines we used to take for granted now require a surge of effort: finding ingredients for a balanced meal, catching public transport, paying bills, communicating basic concepts in a second language. Life takes a lot of energy. And yet, building community doesn’t have to be complicated. In fact, it can be as simple as offering friendship and caring for people. The tried and true buddy system, where an experienced partner helps to orientate a newly arrived worker, is the first step in this important process.

“I make it my business to meet new people and do what I can for them. When I first arrived, I remember someone telling me not to expect anyone to invite me to dinner because they’re all too stressed themselves. And yet I’ve been enriched by being an orientation buddy to so many people, and connecting them with others. I want people to feel like they belong because we are all very scattered with our work: women’s evenings, for instance, young parents, different ethnicities. It’s not easy here! We must provide a sense of belonging.” (R, from Australia)

“Arrival can be very traumatic. Experienced partners need to meet people, go with them to new places. You have to do community on the ground; one of the most important things is just being a friend. Why not invest in new arrivals? They’re God’s people. You miss out if you don’t.” (S, from America)

For my part, I’m profoundly grateful to be part of the community here. It is manifested in different ways: in my small group that meets to eat, pray and share together; in a wide variety of friendships; in the pastoral and professional care that I receive.

But it doesn’t end there.

Bridging communities

My relationship with my sending community is not one-way. They have sent me out with financial support, prayers and blessings; how can I bless them in return?
• By communicating a vivid, honest picture of this country and its needs, so that they can pray in an informed and specific way, with love in their hearts.
• By encouraging them to see a broader picture of God’s work in the world, and communicating as much as I can about the work of our company.
• By sharing good news and answers to prayer, so that they can rejoice.

Whether we are serving God in our passport country or overseas, we can’t do it in isolation. The body of Christ is called to be in community, and it is the particular blessing of workers to participate in numerous communities. When the time comes for me to return to Australia, I’ll have an enriched understanding of the sending church’s role; I’m pretty excited to see what my part will be.

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